The Blank Space
by therealmofpossibilities
Summary: The one in which Dean Winchester is perpetually and confusedly torn between wanting to punch Castiel in the face and wanting to tear Castiel's clothes off. Dean doesn't completely know he's right, but he's still pretty sure that the feeling's mutual. College AU.
1. Chapter 1

Dean Winchester was having a bad fucking day. He scowled and grabbed a coffee ("black, I mean it, no freaking milk") from the twitchy employee at the coffee cart and downed it, scalding hot. It burned Dean's tongue, but Dean didn't really care. He needed something, _something _to make him feel vaguely better after the petty bitch fight he had with this stupid girl, and the burn kind of helped a little.

He swept those thoughts away as best as he could and stalked to the library so he could meet Charlie, his self-appointed study-partner who could quote practically every line of the Harry Potter books by memory, and who also informed Sam on how Dean was doing. At first Dean felt absolutely stupid, like his little brother still needed to take care of him from miles away, but it kept Sam happy and Charlie kept him on focus. Plus he was fond of Charlie, like the little sister he never wanted.

"No drinks in the library!"

A middle-aged woman with a plastered on smile and tightly permed hair was sitting at a counter near the entrance, scanning returns. Charlie called her Professor Umbridge in secret, and Dean would rather not address her directly at all.

"Bite me," Dean murmured under his breath. He finished the drink and chucked the plastic cup hastily into a convenient bin near the doors, and walked in.

He found Charlie in her usual spot, red hair tied back as she typed frantically on her laptop. Her t-shirt read _"Keep Calm, I'm the Doctor" _on it, and she looked up and smiled at Dean as he walked in.

Dean dumped his books on the table and grunted in greeting.

"Someone's a happy chappy today, I see," Charlie said, altogether too chipper for his liking.

"I'm too ecstatic for words," Dean muttered, throwing her a less than impressed look. "I'm pretty sure if you loaded me up on enough Coke, I'd burp rainbows."

"Sam says hi, by the way," Charlie said, pinching his arm with her nails. He frowned in protest, and smacked her hands away.

"Yeah, yeah," Dean said. "I'll call him back soon. I've been _busy_."

"I'm sure he hasn't forgotten that his older brother is a notorious womanizer," Charlie said, seemingly uninterested in the conversation already and turning back to her laptop. "But he is getting pretty worried. Yesterday he asked me if you were eating enough."

Dean groaned. "That's _my _job. I better call him tonight, see how he's doing, see if he's sealed the deal on Jess yet."

Charlie threw him a dirty look. "I hope you have more tact than that when you ask him."

Dean snorted. "Sammy's used to me. Besides, what am I meant to say? 'Hey Sammy, wondering if you've gotten Jessica to accept your gentlemanly calls?'"

Charlie paused. "Hm, what about, 'Hey Sammy, how are you and Jess?' See. Simple. Not invasive." Her fingers constantly on the keys made an annoying, uneven melody that made Dean's mood worsen.

"What the fuck are you even doing, anyway?" Dean pulled Charlie's laptop so he could see it, and he made a face when he saw what was on it. "Really? _Really? _Roleplay?"

"Fuck off, Dean Winchester," Charlie said, but in a happy kind of upbeat voice. "This girl, Becky, is _totally _an awesome roleplayer, plus I think she's kind of in to me."

Dean raised his eyebrows. "Well, good for you then, C. Least someone's getting some ass."

"Hm? Your Barbie Dream Girl went back to Ken Doll?" Charlie said, batting her eyes in imitation of the aforementioned Barbie Dream Girl. "Realised she couldn't tame Bad Boy Dean?"

Dean pulled his best imitation of James Dean and said, "You know no one can tame the beast."

"Well," Charlie said, "better get started on some work. All play and no work makes Dean a college drop out."

"Yeah, sure," Dean said, flipping through his books to find the one he was looking for.

"Oh yeah, but _first_, I want to invite you to this thing tonight." Charlie grinned. "It's like, meant to be really awesome and really cool and really just, really. I'm pretty sure I've never been invited to anything so cool ever."

"Not even my invigorating birthday soiree?" Dean said, raising his eyebrows at her. For his last birthday, Dean invited like, five people over to watch bad horror movies and laugh at them. This was partly because he liked movies, and mostly because he didn't really have many friends.

"This must take a close second," Charlie said, nodding seriously. "But yeah. Come. I'll pick you up and everything."

"In _your _car?" Dean said, scoffing in disgust. "No. No. We're taking my baby."

Charlie rolled her eyes. "_Fine_. We'll take your 'baby'" – here she made quotation marks around the word – "and you pick me up then."

"What is it?" Dean asked, curiousity peaked. "If this is some lame fraternity thing I may have to tie you to a chair and make you eat every type of pie in existence. And you know how much you hate pie." Dean gave her another disgusted scoff then, shaking his head.

"Just some party thing," Charlie said. "But I want you to meet someone. I think you'll hate him and it'll be hilarious."

"You want me to meet someone you'll think I _hate_." Dean paused, and then shrugged. "Well, hell, you're probably right. Bring it on."

* * *

This was definitely not Dean's crowd. Everything seemed smoky and hazy and when people exchanged hushed whispers near each others ears, Dean felt like they were imparting knowledge or some profound wisdom on life. In reality they were probably talking about how much the band sucked or something, but fuck if those judgmental eyes said anything else.

Dean was trying hard not to run back out of the door and straight into his baby, and he made a face at Charlie from where she was sitting at the bar. She was kind of looking around everywhere with this awed expression, as if these people were infinitely cool or something.

"Drinks better be on you," Dean said as he sat next to Charlie, feeling freaking uncomfortable in his outdated jacket. But he was Dean, and he didn't look uncomfortable _anywhere_, so he just put on his Fuck Off face and hoped no one would approach or say anything to him.

Charlie glanced at Dean. "Yeah, yeah. Hey, do you think you could do me a favour and turn on the Dean Winchester charm? I wanna see how people here react to it."

Dean looked at Charlie. "How they would _react_ to it? You know how people would goddamn react to it. Feeling weak at the knees and ready for a piece of this." He gestured to his body.

Charlie snorted. "These people are _different_, Dean."

"Different?" Dean shrugged. "They look human to me."

"Yeah but they're…"

"Pretentious douchebags?" Dean finished. "So, where's the guy that you wanted me to meet?"

"Oh, he should be around here…" Charlie muttered, scanning the room, "…somewhere."

Dean ordered a drink and turned around, people watching. It was kind of a habit for Dean, to look around the room and scan the area, making sure he sat in a place where he could see everyone and everything. He guessed he learned it from Dad, who had always been kind of paranoid someone was going to come into Chuck-E-Cheeses with a gun or something.

"Oh, there he is!"

Charlie pointed straight at some guy that was making his way into the place. Dean moved a bit to get a better view at the guy. He was kind of tall he guessed, not short at least. There was a mess of black hair on his head, the kind of black that Dean guessed would be brown in the sunlight. He was wearing jeans and a simple t-shirt underneath this big oversized overcoat which he had shucked when he walked in, and Dean guessed things being oversized was some sort of _trend _or something. He walked in all badass-like, like he owned the place, and Dean instantly held some sort of dislike for him.

All the same, he couldn't take his eyes off him.

"_That's_ him?" Dean said, with his eyes still on him. "Doesn't look like much to me."

Charlie smirked. "Yeah, that's Castiel. He's awesome."

"_Awesome_," Dean repeated. And then, "_Castiel_?"

"Named after an angel or something," Charlie said. "Religious family." She looked down at her phone. "I txted him to come meet us here."

Castiel walked over to them, and as he got closer Dean noticed the colour of his eyes. God damn, his girlfriends must have a field day writing poetry with _those _eyes.

"Cas!" Charlie said, reaching out as if to give Castiel a hug but then stopping at the last moment. That made Dean's mouth twitch in question, but he didn't say anything.

"Hello, Charlie," Castiel said. His voice was freaking deep, and all gravelly, and it caught Dean off guard. He couldn't help but notice it didn't entirely match the way Castiel looked, but it entirely matched the way Castiel carried himself. Dean also couldn't help but notice how fucking attractive he was.

"What's happening?" Charlie said with a nod. "Oh! This is Dean. Dean, this is Castiel."

Charlie then kind of pushed Dean towards Castiel in a nervous way, and when Dean looked at her in protest Charlie raised her eyebrows in an anticipating look.

"Hey man," Dean said, tilting his drink towards Castiel. "Nice to meet you."

"Hello, Dean." Castiel inclined his head towards him. "Charlie talks a lot about you."

"Oh, really?" Dean said, flicking his head a little bit in exaggerated pride. "And does she spend hours talking about the perfectness of my green eyes, or the light I bring in her dull everyday life?"

"No." Castiel's face was as straight as one's face would be when playing poker. "She talks about how your car is your one true love and that you talk to it like it's your lover."

Dean smirked. "Nobody comes between me and my baby."

Castiel tilted his head. "Well, that's fine. People are very open here. I know of someone in this establishment that likes to have sex with a blow-up doll." He smiled a tad to Charlie and Dean, and then walked further down the bar, calling for the bartender.

Dean was left with his mouth opening and closing like a fish.

"Yeah, so that's Castiel," Charlie said, toasting the drink in her hand which she had gotten a tad bit before. "May you guys bring me entertainment for years to come." She downed sip from her drink.

"We better not be staying here long," is all Dean said.

* * *

Dean was making some effort to mingle, leaving Charlie's side. He was talking to Tessa something or another about this book they both had to read for high school which they found horrendous, but then Tessa was dragged away by her boyfriend and Dean was left having to find someone else halfway decent to talk to. He sighed, looking around to see if anyone caught his eye, but nobody did. He decided to go outside round the back for some fresh hair, his breaths full of sweat.

Cool air hit Dean's face and he relished it, shoving his hands inside his jacket pockets and walking over to the wall. He saw a figure there, alone, and as he got closer he saw it was Castiel.

He had a cigarette in one hand and he was looking at one of the only pieces of wall that was free from graffiti. Dean decided to clear his throat, just in case Castiel had turned around and thought Dean was a creeper or something. Well, it's not exactly like Dean particularly _cared _what Castiel thought, but nobody liked to be known as a creep.

Castiel turned to the noise. "Oh, Dean."

"Yeah," Dean replied, walking closer to Castiel. "Why are you staring there?"

"I'm just thinking," Castiel said, "of all the things I could write there if I was inclined to do so."

At some point, Castiel had shrugged that trenchcoat, overcoat thing back on, and it hung loosely on his frame. Dean noticed he had his hands in his pockets, palming something in them.

"Funny that you're out here," Dean said, "since you strike me as such the party animal."

Castiel tilted his head. "Oh, I was unaware of that."

Dean snorted. "That was a joke, Cas. _Sarcasm_. You know?"

Castiel didn't say anything for a while, and then, "My name is Castiel."

"I _know _that," Dean said.

"You called me Cas."

"Did I?" Dean felt some surprise. He didn't realise that he had called Castiel Cas, but I guess it wasn't his fault that his brain had decided to shorten the fucking weird name. "Sorry. But not really. I'm calling you Cas."

Cas seemed to make some sort of disapproving noise, but didn't say anything else. He just continued smoking, before he seemed to realise something.

"Oh, sorry," Cas said, not really sounding sorry at all. "Do you want one?" He waved his cigarette a bit. "I sometimes forget social norms. There are so many."

Dean shook his head. He couldn't stand the damn things. "Nah, I'm good."

Dean turned his head towards Castiel, and again it stroke him how _pretty _Castiel was. Dean found himself looking at his eyes with his own, and moving to his those lips, wanting to trace _those _with _his_ own.

_Fuck_. Dean didn't mean to think that, but he couldn't freaking help it, and it wasn't helping that he found smoking attractive on some people as well.

No-one spoke, the sound of their breaths intermingling with the silence of their thoughts, and Dean wanted to know what the real reason Castiel was out here was. He felt this stupid connection, fueled by Dean's own insatiable curiousity, which pulled him closer to Castiel. He could feel it, could feel the sort of comfort he felt in Castiel's presence which he really shouldn't, seeing as he just met the guy. This silence should feel awkward, but instead it just felt thoughtful.

"Do you think you are ever going to amount to anything?" Castiel said, breaking the silence.

"Sure," Dean said, smirking a bit. "Probably end up as some big TV star or something, having millions of fangirls admire my dashing good looks."

Castiel glanced at Dean then. "That seems very unlikely."

"What? You don't think I have dashing good looks?"

Castiel ignored him. "My brother told me today I'm not going to amount to anything." He took another drag of his cigarette.

Dean snorted. "What a righteous ass."

"I agree," Castiel said. "But Michael is an extremely successful lawyer, so I guess he has somewhat earned having an opinion on the matter."

"Well, fuck Michael and his fancy-schamcy success as a lawyer," Dean said, shrugging. "That why you're out here? Usually you'd be partying it up in there, huh?" He stuck a thumb in the direction of the door.

"I would usually be getting drunk," Castiel said. "But tonight, I felt like staring at this blank space of wall."

"Huh," Dean said. "You gonna write something profound on it?"

Castiel glanced at Dean. "Maybe at a later date."

"Huh," Dean said. Dean could tell that Castiel was getting ready to go back in, putting out his cigarette with his shoe. Dean wanted to say something, wanted to make Castiel _like _Dean. "Fuck Michael, right. By the sounds of it, you don't need your family anyway."

Instead of it making Castiel like Dean, it seemed to do the opposite. Something in Castiel seemed to have sparked, and Dean could _feel _the anger rising in him. Before Dean could say anything, Castiel had grabbed Dean and shoved him against the wall. Dean felt the brick hitting his back, felt Castiel enclosing on his personal space, his face close to his face, their breaths twining together. He was acutely aware of Castiel's lips so, _so _near Dean's. The tension seemed palpable, and for one of the first times in the night, Dean looked straight into Castiel's blue eyes.

"You don't know anything about my family," Castiel practically growled. "You shouldn't talk like you do, Dean."

"Well, _sorry_, Cas," Dean said, sounding indignant. "But this Michael guy sounds like a complete ass, and you _obviously don't _need that in your life. So excuse the fuck out of me if I said something that offended you." Dean suddenly felt annoyed, irritated, that Castiel would react so emotionally to one simple statement. "Now get off me."

Castiel looked straight into Dean's eyes for a few seconds longer, and Dean didn't know if Castiel was genuinely angry at him or if he was debating whether or not to jump Dean's bones. Unfortunately it wasn't the second, and Castiel backed off Dean's space.

"Family is a…sensitive topic for me, Dean," Cas said. "And I am not sorry for my reaction."

Castiel was still staring at Dean, and Dean swore, he _swore_, that he saw Castiel glance down at Dean's lips. He wasn't completely sure, but the thought still made Dean smirk inwardly.

"You usually go all Hulk like that then?" Dean said. "Should I be expecting that more often?"

Castiel frowned. "You should not be expecting anything. I don't know if we will be talking again."

And, well _ouch_. That hurt. "Well then, Hulk in a Trenchcoat. I'll see you never, then."

Cas tilted his head. "I said, I don't _know _if we will be talking again. I didn't say we would never be talking again." He turned to go inside, and then looked back at Dean. "I'll see you, Dean." Then he walked inside, back to the party, back to the bad music.

Dean leaned against the wall and thought back to the Castiel's freaking blue eyes right up in his personal space, and thought, _oh yes you will_.

* * *

**A/N: **It would be totally lovely if you could review.


	2. Chapter 2

'_Salutations, Dean! I'll be out tonight with a lady friend, and am hoping not to be back too early, if you catch my drift. Don't wait up. – Garth'_

Dean scoffed as he ripped the pink post-it note off the back of their dorm room door, shaking his head in amusement and chucking it half-heartedly at the bin. It missed by an inch and Dean scowled. He hated when he was having a bad day – or a bad _week _– he seemed to notice the horrible in the little things, in the missed shots and the missing pens. And now he didn't even have Garth to keep him company tonight – on a _Monday _night of all nights – _and _he had forgotten to remind him not to say 'You've been Garth'd' to any 'lady friend'. The last time he said it, Dean walked in to find their room covered in embarrassing photos of Garth.

He kind of missed drawing moustaches on them, though.

Dean didn't have any more classes for the rest of the day, and he slumped on his bed, feeling tired as hell. He _had _promised that he would go and meet Charlie and Gabriel for coffee though, and it's not like he could afford to piss any more friends off. He rubbed his hand over his face warily, steeling himself. He hadn't talked to Charlie since Saturday night, and fuck if Charlie didn't notice him acting all shifty after his talk with Cas.

* * *

When Dean got to the campus cafe – after getting a candy bar for Gabriel from one of the vending machines as a 'hey man, sorry I've ignored all your calls' gift – Charlie and Gabriel were already sitting there, Charlie with her laptop by her side and Gabriel licking whipped cream from the top of his ice chocolate. Smiling in the predictability of it all, Dean approached them.

"Dean!" Gabriel exclaimed, extending his arms out on either side of him. "Nice to see you. I thought you were stuck in an alternate universe or something."

"Yeah, yeah, can it, Gabriel." He chucked a candy bar at him. "Here, to shut you up."

"Oh, hells yeah," Gabriel said enthusiastically, catching it in mid-air. "Aw, you remembered. I'm touched."

Dean looked at him with a disgruntled look on his face. "Uh, yeah of course I remember, you dick. Remember that time you wouldn't stop poking me unless I bought one for you?"

Gabriel smiled and shrugged. "I was out of change that day."

Dean rolled his eyes up, thinking he kind of remembered why he could only handle Gabriel in small doses. They weren't exactly _best friends _or anything, but Gabriel was handy in sticky situations and he and Dean had worked together on something before, once.

"Charlie," Dean said, turning towards the redhead. "Are you going to acknowledge that I'm here?"

"No," Charlie said, not removing her eyes from the screen.

"_Awesome_," Dean said, shaking his head again. "Right, so, what was the point of this little get together?"

"Uh, do I need an excuse to see you, Dean?" Gabriel said, going back to his whipped cream. "I could hardly remember what your ugly mug even looked like."

"Yeah, right," Dean said, scoffing. "I have the face of a god."

"That's my Dean," Gabriel said. "Modest, as always."

"I'm not _yours_," Dean said.

"Dean has a new love interest," Charlie said. She closed her laptop decisively, and finally turned towards him and Gabriel. "His name is Castiel, he has blue eyes, and he's a Scorpio."

"A new –" Dean spluttered. "What?"

Charlie laughed. "Dean, just don't. I saw you come in after Cas, and I also saw your search history. You searched for 'Castiel' in the student directory."

"You saw my _what_?"

"I said I saw your search history." Charlie smirked. "Don't worry, I won't say anything about your frequent visits to you know what."

Dean smirked back. "I don't know what you're talking about, Charlie."

Charlie tightened her mouth and looked away. "Don't make me say it, Dean."

Gabriel started laughing. "So, _porn_ then. And Castiel? Castiel Novak?"

"I just wanted to know his last name," Dean said, protesting. "Guy's an enigma, okay."

Charlie tilted her head. "Not really, Dean. Didn't I just tell you he's a Scorpio? Just so you know, according to star signs you're _totally _incompatible to him. But that's okay, I still really believe in you guys."

"What?" Dean said. "You told me I'd _hate _the guy."

"Oh, did I?" Charlie replied.

Dean groaned. "Oh, fuck you, Charlie."

Gabriel made a noise of protest then, grabbing some of his whipped cream and flicking Dean with it on the nose. "Everyone, Gabriel is trying to speak here. Castiel _Novak_?"

"_Yes_!"

"Well then," Gabriel said, leaning back with a triumphant look on his face. "I know him."

"What are you –" Charlie started to say, and then, "so do I, Gabriel."

"Want an award, huh, Gabe?" Dean grumbled.

"Aw, you called me _Gabe_," Gabriel said. "But no. I mean, I _know_ him."

Dean studied Gabriel for a few extra seconds, taking in the smug, self-satisfied look on his face and promptly contorted his face into disgust. "_No_."

"You better believe it, Dean-o," Gabriel said, throwing a casual grin at Dean's way. "He went to my high school. We were best friends in middle school, but then he started hating me. I guess it all came to a head on one beautiful, beautiful dusky evening in senior year. It was kind of dark, he passed me a cigarette, and I –"

"No one wants to hear about your past lovers trysts," Dean said, miming throwing up.

"No, no, this could be good!" Charlie said. At some point of the conversation she had opened her laptop again and was now typing in it with a determined flair. "We now have more information on Cas!"

"I thought we have enough," Dean pointed it. "He's a Scorpio, remember."

Charlie gave Dean a frown. "Stop making fun of me. Anyway, you and Cas. Let's do this shit."

"_Let's do this –_" Dean said, "come on, Charlie, what are you in, a bad 90's movie? Should I bet expecting a fade out? Anyway, what are you writing?"

"Nothing," Charlie said nonchalantly. "Hey, Gabe – is Cas a bottom or a top?"

"What the fuck –"

"Not sure," Gabe said, opening the candy bar. "Didn't get that far. But you know, me and Cas are still buddies. I can totally swing this if you want. Count it as a favour, Dean."

"Fuck, I don't even like the guy," Dean said, although admittedly he didn't sound all that convincing, even to his own ears. "And he doesn't like me either. In fact, he acted like I was a bug that irritates the shit out of him. He threw me against the wall."

"He threw you against the –" Gabriel whistled. "Wow. He likes you, Dean-o."

Dean narrowed his eyes. "What?"

"Cas is a little bit emotionally constipated," Gabriel said between bites. "Don't blame him either, with that family of his."

This made Dean's breath skip a bit, suddenly reminded of why exactly Cas threw him against the wall. "Family. I mentioned family."

Gabriel frowned. "Bad move. Cas's family are a bunch of dicks."

Charlie hummed under her breath in contentment and Dean couldn't take it any longer. He reached over to peek at what she was writing, and groaned. "What are you, Charlie, our personal secretary? Recording this conversation? _Really_?"

Charlie just grinned. "Hey, it's all fair game for inspiration. Hey, Dean. Forget something?"

She pointed at her coffee, and Dean realised that he had been so caught up in the thought of Castiel that he forgot to order his own. _Shit._

* * *

Dean didn't usually go to the library on a Monday night, but he damn well couldn't concentrate back at his dorm. He liked to have someone nearby, someone to just talk to when he was taking a break – and he _needed _breaks goddamn – and since Garth wasn't home, he just wanted some human interaction. No matter how much Dean told himself he was better off alone, without someone just _there_, everything felt so lonely. He took a deep breath at that thought, ridding himself of it.

The quietness enveloped him as he walked in the doors. There were people milling about, keeping each other's distance. It wasn't the campus library, 'cause Dean just felt like _unfamiliarity, _thinking it would propel him out of his funk. Dean was always looking for something new, different, so he wouldn't have to choke on the steadiness of a routine.

"Do you need some assistance opening a book?"

Dean recognised that voice, the deep grumble that told him _'I'll see you, Dean' _and Dean felt anticipation from the memory. He turned around, and saw Castiel, Cas, standing behind Dean's shoulders next to a trolley of books waiting to be shelved. Cas looked expectantly at Dean, his face blank and waiting.

"Yeah, would you?" Dean replied, handing him a book he randomly picked off the trolley. "Some of those damn spines are really hard to crack."

Castiel looked down at the book. "_Are You There God? It's Me Margaret_," he read from the cover. He looked up at Dean, and Dean could fucking _see _the mirth in his eyes.

"I identify with her plight," Dean said, indignantly.

"Yes, I am sure," Cas replied, opening the book to the first page. "Would you also like some help reading from it?"

"Hey, Cas," Dean said, reaching for the book, "I might not be able to open a book, but I can damn sure _read_. Who do you take me for?"

Cas made a soft noise. "I volunteer here on Monday and Tuesday nights."

Dean scoffed. "I didn't ask, Cas."

"I know." The _but you still wanted to know _went left unsaid, and Dean hated that he was so obvious. _  
_

"So, why do you volunteer?" Dean asked. "Got some karma thing going on?"

"I just like it," Cas said. "Methodical. I know what I'm doing. I feel a sense of achievement. And it helps me think."

Dean considered this. "Kind of like when I work on my baby, then."

Cas looked at Dean. "That could be comparable."

Dean grinned. "You want some help?"

Cas looked surprised for a second, as if he couldn't believe that someone was wanting to help him shelve books on a Monday night – and Dean could hardly believe himself either – but he nodded. "Sure, Dean. That'd be nice."

"Awesome," Dean said, standing up. He decided to shrug his leather jacket off, even though he was damn attached to the thing. It fit perfectly, and its worn look had been his Dad's fault. And he was glad that it was.

Dean scanned the spines and grabbed some of them, realising they were shelving the Young Adult section. Why their college even needed a Young Adult section, Dean didn't know – he could do without the books advertising some supernatural boy and some human girl falling in love with each other. But, whatever floated people's boats, he guessed.

"So, you read?" Dean asked. And then he always kicked himself. _Do you read_. Fuck, that was the most idiotic question that had ever exited his mouth, and this coming from the guy that once asked '_Why do we have noses?_'

Cas snorted. "I read."

"Oh...kay," Dean said. God, it was hard to keep a conversation with this guy. Dean just wanted to _talk_, he wanted to talk to Cas, to hear him speak, to hear him say things about things which Dean may not understand at all, but it would be important, it would all be important, because it would be from Cas. Dean felt like every word Cas said was important, but it was like pulling teeth to get anything out of him.

"I really don't understand the importance of conversation right now, Dean," Castiel said, slotting a book into its place.

Dean felt a twinge of hurt, but he laughed it off. "I just like it," he said, repeating what Cas said earlier.

Cas made a soft noise. "Or maybe you just like me."

Dean kind of flailed in response, stopping mid-action as he was putting another book on the shelf. He chuckled nervously. "Being a bit forward there, Cas."

"No, Dean," Cas said. He stopped shelving and turned to Dean, and Dean swallowed before turning towards Cas. "Do you think I wouldn't have noticed?"

"Noticed...noticed what?" Dean said. "Yeah, I've been friendly to you, Cas, but whatever man, I'm friendly to _everyone_," – liar – "so you know."

"So you mean," Cas said, getting closer. His lips were a few inches from Dean's, Castiel pressing into Dean. Dean was painfully aware of everywhere of Cas that touched Dean, everywhere where they blended together to become Cas and Dean, Cas and Dean, and he stopped breathing for a second, wondering what the fuck Castiel was up to. If he wasn't going to just kiss Dean, then he should have no freaking business right here, right now, in this place. "This isn't affecting you at all?"

Dean tried to muster up a snort. "Of course it is, Cas. I'm only human you know."

"Mhm," Castiel said. His blue eyes moved down to Dean's lips, and then Cas stepped back. _No. _"Gabriel told me."

_Gabriel, you fucker_, Dean thought. He was never buying Gabriel another freaking candy bar again. Not ever.

"Whatever Gabriel told you, Cas, it probably wasn't true," Dean said, "you know Gabriel. He's never serious. Come on."

"He seemed serious enough," Cas said. "And I know Gabriel. Very well."

A tinge of jealously twitched through Dean then, making him curl his hands into loose fists, nails scratching at his palm. _Get to know me_, Dean wanted to say, and Dean should have, could have, would have in another time and if Cas was another person. Dean usually did say things like that, and worse, and he didn't know why he couldn't bring them to say it to Cas.

"Yeah, I heard all about you and Gabriel," Dean said, trying to play it off like it was nothing. "Senior year sweethearts, right? Did he bring you home after the prom –"

"Shut up, Dean," Cas said. Dean saw Cas frown then, eyebrows knitted together. "Didn't I already tell you not to talk about things you don't know about?"

_He's speaking to me like a child_, Dean thought. "And hasn't anyone ever told you not to be so patronising?" Dean said, scoffing. "Seriously, Cas. You're not gonna get any friends that way."

"I know," Cas said.

Dean realised then that he had hit a nerve, _god damn again, _same as when he had brought up family. Friends seemed to be another topic for Cas. Hell, just other _people _tended to rile Cas up. Dean wondered then about Cas, about his background, and Dean's imagination was rolling with possible explanations. It was pathetic really, when all Dean really had to do was ask. But Dean didn't want to do that – Dean wanted to get to know Cas in that novel way, where the author reveals things about the character bit by bit, through actions and scenes and dialogue. He doesn't want it to be all _told _to him, like a fact sheet. So he won't ask Gabriel, and he won't ask Cas. He will let it all unravel.

Cas had turned away then, back to the shelving, and Dean rubbed the back of his neck. _What now what now what now_.

"Okay, Cas, so look I'm really shit at this whole emotions thing, okay?" Dean started, and paused so he could consider how awkward that sounded. He soldiered on though, because that's what Dean did – _soldier the fuck on._ "And it's not that I like you, but I think I _could _like you, and I want to okay? I want to like you."

Dean felt like punching _himself _in the face after that.

"I don't think that would be such a good idea," Castiel said, slowly, after some deliberation. He didn't pause on his shelving once.

Dean felt the sting of rejection. "Why?" He smirked. "Do you not find me visually appealing?" He said this in a kind of light-hearted mockery of how Cas spoke, but Cas didn't even smile.

"I don't want to get close to people, Dean," Cas said. He still hadn't stopped.

_Turn around, goddamnit_, Dean said. He wanted to see Cas's eyes, the blue.

"I'm not asking you for your hand in _marriage_, Cas," Dean said, chuckling. "Calm down. I'm asking you to like, you know. Hang, or whatever."

"I can't," Castiel said, "hang."

Dean started nodding with his lips pursed. "No, okay, I get it, Cas. Sure. But two can play at this game, alright? You said you can tell you affect me, right? But you know what, Cas? I can tell I affect you too." He stepped closer to Castiel then, putting a hand on Cas's hand, stopping him from putting the book in. Cas turned around then, and then Dean got to see them, the _blue _and they were filled with something Dean couldn't place.

"Why don't you want to get close to people," Dean said, voice in almost a growl, a whisper. It was question, but it wasn't said as one, because Dean knew he wouldn't be getting the answer.

"Dean," Cas said, and his _voice _just that voice, that did it for Dean, because Dean was closing the distance and covered Cas's mouth with his own.

It was awkward, at first, their bodies at an awkward angle and Cas's hand still on the book, but then Cas let go of the book and turned fully to Dean and Dean pressed more insistently on Cas's lips, and suddenly Cas was kissing back, their mouths moving tentatively together, Cas unsure at first but Dean sure, Dean _definitely _sure, because it felt so good, the sliding of the lips and the way he couldn't think of anything but this, but of Cas, and that was _awesome_.

And it couldn't have been more than a few seconds, maybe longer, definitely longer, but not long at all, before Cas pulled back. The kiss was not enough, Dean wanted to _taste _Castiel's mouth, to claim him but Cas didn't seem to feel the same and so. And so.

"_Dean_," Cas said.

"Dean what?" Dean said. "God, Cas. That was awesome and you know it, so let's just –"

"No, Dean. I can't." Cas turned away then.

Dean felt. Not anger, but just this indignant huff simmering. "You keep saying you _can't_, Cas, but why?"

"I don't know how to explain, Dean." Cas paused. "It would be better if you would leave me alone."

Dean felt like he just got slapped. "But fuck. I don't want to, Cas."

"I want you to, then," Cas said.

"No, you don't."

Cas looked at Dean then. "Do not tell me what I want, Dean."

Dean threw his arms up in the air. "Well then, don't tell me what to do!"

Cas pursed his lips together, and said nothing. He merely just grabbed the trolley the books were on, and walked away. He freaking just walked away, leaving Dean behind. Dean sensed this was starting to become a pattern, a pattern of Cas just doing whatever the hell he wants and Dean trying to make sense of it all.

Dean kicked a chair and all he could see in his head was Gabriel sucking on a lollipop then pointing it at Dean going, _"You screwed up, kid."_

"Well, screw you too, Gabriel," Dean muttered under his breath. "Screw you too."

* * *

**A/N: **Hi, guys! Thanks for the follows/favourites/reviews which you had kindly bestowed upon this story. Just to make it clear, I don't live in the USA, and I have _no _idea about their university system, or libraries. But, this is fanfiction, and in the world of fanfiction...

Also! I'm writing this on the day in which Tumblr exploded from everyone saying that 'Destiel has been confirmed canon' because of something Misha said at a meet and greet. The Destiel shippers need some happy and it's pretty cool, what Misha said. But he's a giant troll, so I don't know. Anyways, this can now be that day and also 'The Day My Dean and Cas Kissed!' So, as Dean would say, awesome.

Thanks – remember to review and all that, because that would be awesome, too.


	3. Chapter 3

"Get the hell up, Dean, you have a class in twenty minutes!"

Dean flipped the middle finger towards the general direction the voice came from, and he rolled over, groaning. He was met with Garth's grinning face above him, flicking Dean's nose with his middle finger and thumb.

He narrowed his eyes but didn't say anything, too used to Garth to even bother.

"See, I remembered," Garth said, smug.

"You did, Garth," Dean said, sighing and reaching to chuck his blankets off. "Top notch job."

"Thanks, Dean," Garth said, beaming at him. Garth always acted like he kind of wanted to impress him, as if he looked _up _to Dean, which Dean thought was fucking stupid. He wasn't someone to look up to, in fact if anything; he was someone to look down upon.

"So, take it last night went well, huh?" Dean said, dressing hastily. He grabbed a t-shirt that reminded him of Cas because of the blue, and ran a hand through his hair. "Impressed your lady friend?"

"_Dude_," Garth said, shaking his head. "I think she's The One, you know."

"Huh," Dean commented absent-mindedly as he looked for some clean socks.

"Yeah," Garth said, "she thought the 'You've been Garthed' thing is funny!"

Dean stopped what he was doing and looked at him. "Hold on to her, man. Hold onto her."

"Plan to, Dean," Garth replied. "So, how are you and Barbie Doll?"

Dean frowned. He had almost forgotten her – and the fact that everyone called her 'Barbie Doll' – and for a split second there, Dean thought Garth was going to ask how he and _Cas _was. But of course Garth didn't know about Cas, no one except for Charlie and Gabriel and now _Cas _knew about Cas.

"Went back to the Dream House," Dean said, grabbing his backpack.

"Yeah?" Garth frowned, the first time he hadn't looked ecstatic during the conversation. "But you have that look on your face. You know. The 'thinking about someone' look. The 'I need them' look."

Dean shot Garth a nasty look.

"Oh, now that's the infamous 'Back the Hell Off' look. Well, alright, Dean, alright. You don't need Garth. I get it. Now go to class." He waved Dean off, and Dean left, trying to only think in the present and not the past.

* * *

Later that day, after classes, Dean took his impala out. It'd been a while since he'd driven her any further than to the closest town (about fifteen minutes away) and back, and he'd missed it. When he a kid, he and Sammy had begged for their dad to buy them a gigantic map of America, and they had spread it out on the floor of their tree house and spent afternoons in it, thinking of where to go and where to get lost in. Sam had always decided that he'd eventually settle down, but Dean never let himself think that. He just wanted to go and go and go, to escape, to not be tied down. Even at ten years old, Dean had serious commitment issues.

If Dean had someone sitting in the passenger seat, it would all be perfect. He imagined blasting some AC/DC or Led Zeppelin in the car, the person in the seat complaining (because when had Dean ever chosen friends with awesome music taste) about the noise. The banter and the quick flicks of amusement at each other. First Dean imagined Sammy – his quick-to-grin mouth twitching in humour, floppy brown hair ready to be ruffled. And then he realised Sam wanted to go to Stanford, to be this big shot lawyer, so it soon morphed into Charlie, her red hair rocking back and forth to the music, despite her not liking classic rock. But it didn't matter with Charlie. It still didn't feel right though, and Dean shook his head and chased away wistful thoughts of blue eyes and the _do not tell me what to do, Dean _that still left Dean too bitter than he should be.

He pulled over in a parking lot next to a convenience store in one of the smaller towns, and pulled out his phone, remembering his promise to call Sam.

"Dean?"

"Hey, Sammy."

"Dean!"

Dean smiled as he pictured Sam's exasperated look.

"Grateful to hear I'm still alive?"

"I was waiting for you to call for ages."

"Sorry, Sam. I was busy."

"Yeah, yeah, Charlie said."

It occurred to Dean then that Charlie might have said something to Sam about Cas, and panic seized at him. He didn't want to tell Sam about Cas yet, not that there was _much _to tell. But whatever it was, it was still new, like a spark of flame that could turn into a fire, and Dean didn't want to risk any wind blowing it out.

"Yeah, you know. Studying hard."

Sam snorted. "Yeah right, jerk."

"Bitch. I've been doing good, you know."

Sam's voice seemed to soften when he said, "Yeah, I know, Dean."

Dean grunted. "Everything good back home?"

"Yeah," Sam said. "Dad's doing good, you know. Has been going to some support group, or something. I don't know. We don't talk about it."

Dean made a noise of acknowledgment. "You tell me if anything goes wrong, you hear, Sammy? Just because I'm not living in the same house as you anymore doesn't mean I'm not the person you come to, alright?"

"I know, Dean," Sam said, sounding tired out.

"Good," Dean said, voice gruff. "Well, what's been happening then?"

"I'm going out with Jess," Sam said, sounding sheepish. "I was going to tell you before, but I know how you don't really like email and it kind of –"

He laughed. "You don't have to apologise to me, Sam. And good for you, 'bout time too. Hope you're not showing her those god awful poems though."

"What!" Sam exclaimed, sounding indignant on the line. "How did you..._Charlie_."

"Girl couldn't keep them to herself," Dean said, and chuckled. "Don't worry, Sam. I'll keep this secret to my grave."

Sam coughed awkwardly. "I had just thought, you know, since Charlie..."

"You don't have to explain yourself to me," Dean said. "I just...glad you're doing okay."

Dean wondered when the guilt of leaving home to leave Sam to fend by himself with their alcoholic-recovering father was going to lift. Maybe when Sam would finally go to college, maybe never. Of course, Sam had _insisted _that Dean went, but Dean should have put up more of a fight. Dean always worried about the kid, and carried some of that everywhere he went.

"I'm doing just fine, Dean," Sam said. "Hope you are too. You...you know. Deserve it."

Dean groaned. "God, you're such a girl, Samantha."

"Screw you," Sam said, and Dean could see him rolling his eyes. "Well, bye."

The phone clicked abruptly, ending their call, and Dean tossed his phone next to him. He realised he had a fond smile on his face, a quirk of his lips that seemed to be involuntary. He resolved to call Sam more often. Made him feel good. And Dean needed it.

* * *

Dean was woken up with a quick rap to his dorm door. Dean was a pretty light sleeper, but so was Garth, and he mumbled blearily for Garth to open the door. Who the fuck was knocking on their dorm door on a _Tuesday night _anyway? He opened one eye and saw that it was 2am, and he didn't have any classes the next day till eleven, but _still_.

He heard Garth open the door, and Garth go, "who the hell are you man?" and then the reply made Dean awake in an instant, shoving the blankets off and getting out of bed.

At the doorway was Castiel, dressed in that same oversized trenchcoat, open. He had what looked to be pyjama pants on (that had little sheep going 'baaa' on them) and _nothing else_. Dean stared for a little while at Cas's exposed chest, but he raised his eyes up to Cas.

Cas also had bed head, hair sticking up and looking so goddamn _adorable _that Dean grinned. But then Dean regained some clarity from his grogginess and he saw the bottle of vodka Cas clutched, like a kid would clutch a soft toy, a teddy bear, and the way Cas was just slumped against the door as if he couldn't hold himself up anymore. Cas was drunk, or at least tipsy.

"The fuck," Garth said, looking between Cas and Dean.

Dean was looking straight at Cas, trying to get some eye contact, but Cas had been avoiding it. It was only till Garth spoke, that Cas decided to look at Dean, eyes kind of glazed over.

"Are you two –"

"Dean," Cas said, and damn, Dean couldn't get over that voice, and he felt turned on just hearing it.

"I'm just going to..." Garth said, flicking his eyes back and forth. "Yeah. I'm just going to."

Garth scurried out of the room, scurried back in, grabbed his blanket and pillow, and scurried back out.

Dean was left alone with Cas now, and Dean reached forward then, circling his hand around Cas's wrist, guiding him to his bed, taking the bottle from his hand. Cas followed willingly, flopping down on Dean's bed with a weary, world-tired sigh.

"What's going on, Cas?" Dean asked, standing awkwardly at the side of his bed, not knowing whether to sit down or to lie down or to go Garth's bed or just to stand there to make sure Cas doesn't vomit on his duvet, or something. Cas didn't _look _drunk enough, but God knows.

"I'm just so tired..." Cas said. He turned to Dean then, and Dean could still see the colour of his eyes, illuminated by the slight moonlight streaming in from their bedroom window.

"How'd you get here? How'd you find me?" Dean asked, genuinely curious. He started to pace back and forth, restless.

"Already knew where you lived," Cas drawled, eyes rolling to the ceiling now. "Searched you up."

Dean chuckled then. "Me too, Cas."

"You looked yourself up?"

"No, I looked you up."

"Oh," Cas said, turning once back more to face Dean. "You're infuriating, you know."

"Yeah?" Dean said. "How infuriating?" He raised a question eyebrow.

"You're like not being able to fit your plug into the socket," Cas said, all serious-like. "You know...you try and then you try again and it's just so fucking frustrating..." Cas sighed.

Dean stifled laughter.

"Stop it," Cas said, brows pulled together. "I know you're laughing. At me. I just want everyone to stop laughing at me."

"No one's laughing at you, Cas," Dean said.

"Yeees," Cas said, drawing out the 'yes'. "Everyone thinking I don't care. But you know what, Dean?"

"What?" Dean said, in a whisper.

"I do," Cas said.

And then Dean looked at Cas and Cas looked at Dean and it was like Dean was fucking drowning, his mind seizing to function, his palms twitching towards Cas in anticipation. Dean had never felt so unbalanced before, like he was on a tightrope, like there were two sides to fall on and if he took one misstep, he would fall on the wrong side.

And Dean didn't know whether he wanted to fall, or whether he wanted to stay.

"Why did you come here, Cas?" Dean asked. "Why are you here?"

Cas laughed then, a broken sort of laugh that made Dean's bones ache. How in the world did they get _here_, what did Dean do to deserve to see Cas so broken, what did he do to see Cas _like this. _"I don't know, Dean. I just..."

"Felt like it?" Dean said.

"Yeah," Cas said. "I just...felt like it."

And Dean went to sit on the bed, and then Cas tugged him down, and then Dean was wrapped around in Cas. Cas's head was buried at Dean's neck, awkwardness leaking out of him because of the drink. Dean still felt strange, lying there with Cas breathing into him, so intimate and _there_, when him and Cas only had two decent conversations before, and they both ended badly. But it felt okay, shrouded in the dark, no light to make Dean see properly and bleariness covering the most of Dean's panicked thoughts. Dean wanted to shrug the trench off but didn't want to wake Cas, so he let Cas be swallowed by it. He traced Cas's features with his eyes, wanting to trace _I want you I want you I want you _on Cas's lips. Dean untangled himself from Cas gently, feeling Cas's weight on his back but less stifled this way, and went to sleep, the _I want you I want you I want you _creating his very own lullaby.

There was a sharp pain in his stomach and Dean groaned. What in God's name was that, and why was it happening to Dean? Dean opened his eyes, getting an eyeful of dark hair and a neck partially covered by a beige collar, and Dean blinked away the worst of the sleepiness to realise that this was Cas. Dean flipped over to his back and noticed the bottle of vodka sitting on his desk, and everything hit Dean at once. Dean rubbed the back of his hand against his eyes, ignoring a shifting Cas as he climbed out of bed to grab a bottle of water and some aspirin.

"What am I –"

Dean turned around to see Cas with his eyes wide open, staring at Dean with a look of horror.

Dean chuckled. "Don't worry, Cas, nothing happened. You think I'd let you be drunk for our first time?" He handed Cas the water and the pills. "Nah. I'd rather make you remember it all. Make you remember –"

"_Dean_," Cas said, "I don't really need this right now. I feel like shit."

"Well, _who's _fault was that?" Dean said, letting a touch of condescension creep into his voice. "Come on, Cas. I'm all for a few drinks but..."

"I'm sorry I bothered you," Cas said, looking away. "I think I just needed...someone."

"And you decided on me," Dean said, sceptically.

"Well," Cas said, "I think I had just hoped you wouldn't mind."

"_Well_," Dean said, "just for future record, I don't."

Cas didn't say anything then, just stared Dean down. Dean suddenly felt naked in his boxers and white tee, but didn't do anything in case this moment ended.

But then Dean couldn't take it anymore, and laughed nervously. "Anyone ever tell you the staring thing is kinda creepy?"

Cas smirked. "Ever think it's deliberate, Dean?"

Dean scoffed. "Trust you to want people to think you're creepy."

Cas tilted his head. "No, it's mysterious."

That made Dean laugh. "No, Cas, it's creepy."

And then, of all things, Cas kind of _pouted_. "Charlie told me it was mysterious."

"Cas, man, don't ever take advice from Charlie," Dean said. "Girl's weird."

Cas narrowed his eyes. "I thought you were her friend."

"I say that in an affectionate way," Dean replied.

"Oh," Cas said. "Then I say you're weird, too. In an affectionate way."

"Cute, Cas," Dean said, ruffling his hair.

Cas was enveloped in Dean's blankets and his trench coat and he looked at Dean like he just killed his puppy.

"Don't fucking patronise me," Cas said. "I am not cute."

"No," Dean agreed. "You're _adorable_."

"Dean _Winchester_," Cas said, before reaching out to Dean and grabbing onto the front of his shirt.

Dean thought that Cas was going to adopt his bitch face (although Dean's prepared for it, with all his years with Sammy) and slam him against the wall or something. Not that Dean would be _too _against it – it was pretty hot the first time – but Dean was thinking that Cas was in a good mood, and would rather not have to deal with a sore back. However Cas pulled Dean towards him, capturing Dean's lips in a kiss, this time slow and deliberate and lazy, a Sunday morning kiss, and it made Dean antsy.

"Jesus, Cas," Dean said. "What was that?"

"Just making sure," Cas said, tilting his head again.

"Making sure of what?" Dean asked, teasing.

Cas said nothing, just shrugged. "Well, I'm sure."

"Good," Dean said. Their heads were still close. "Cas, what happened last night?"

Cas pulled away then, and Dean frowned at the loss. God, he knew he shouldn't have asked that, he knew he would be ruining it. But he couldn't _not _acknowledge what the hell made Cas in such despair that he would drink and go to Dean's room to find comfort in a person he said he didn't want to have anything to do with the day before.

"I received a phone call," Cas started. "And its content was distressing."

Dean didn't say anything, thinking Cas would continue, but he didn't.

"What was it?"

Cas shook his head. "I don't want to talk about this."

"_Damnit, _Cas!" Dean said. "How am I meant to even make this work if you won't just _tell _me? God, the most open you were was the night I first met you."

"Which was only _four days ago, _Dean," Cas said, voice deeper in a growl now. "Or did you forget?"

Dean stumbled on his thoughts, his words. Cas was right. Four days. It's not like Dean should expect Cas to tell Dean _everything_, but, Dean guessed that normal rules didn't apply when it came to Cas.

He sighed. "Okay, fine, you're right. But this –" Dean gestured between him and Cas – "is this happening?"

Cas frowned. "What do you mean, Dean?"

"I _mean_, last night you told me you don't want to be with me, and you stalked off! And then you turn up at my dorm drunk, and suddenly the next morning you change your mind like –" Dean cut himself off in frustration, unwilling to form the words.

"I'm sorry, Dean," Cas said. "I'm...I don't know _what _I want. And I thought I couldn't have you, but you were fucking on my mind all day, so much that I even started to ask other people about you, and I don't know, it's just _you_, Dean! Everything was you, and if everything was you to me except for well, having _you_, then, I don't think I could handle it."

"You know, Cas," Dean said, climbing onto the bed, and facing opposite Cas. "You think too fucking much."

And then he had Cas's mouth on his own, and Cas's hands were everywhere, and Dean's hands were everywhere, touching, exploring. Cas started kissing down Dean's neck and Dean groaned, thinking _this is actually where I want to be right now _and _this is Cas_ and _god he smells but it doesn't matter _and everything else ceased to matter, even though the list for things that still needed to be addressed was long and the list for things that could go wrong was even longer. But the lists were written with pencil and everything could be dealt with and erased later.

* * *

**A/N: **So I was going for slow build, kind of...and then _this _happened. Gr. Anyway, Cas and Dean still have a boat load of issues and everything is not just magically okay and they aren't even really together yet, not really, so the story continues. Yay.

Please remember to be awesome and drop me a line – that'd be nice. Thank you!

P.S. Let's just all take a moment to remember how badass Garth was in the latest episode.  
P.P.S. Also tomorrow is when motherfucking Castiel comes back and I just asdfghjkl;


	4. Chapter 4

By the end of the second week of Dean and Castiel having this thing – whatever it was – Dean had concluded that Cas was a freaking ninja.

He'd be sitting in the shade of some tree, grumbling under his breath about how all the fucking art students had taken up the benches outside, when Cas would be there, sitting next to him, without Dean even realising at all. Dean would turn his head and flash him a startled look, shoot him a sarcastic remark and press their bodies so that the sides of them could touch. They didn't really talk much those times, except for Cas's dry comments and Dean's clever (or that's what he liked to think) rebuttals, which seemed like some sort of foreplay before they'd have enough and clamber up to a dorm room, or maybe sneak inside the backseat of Dean's impala.

Cas would appear without warning, but he'd also disappear.

They'd be arguing – cause goddamn, Cas was a college student majoring in Classical Studies and minoring in pretentious, deadpan comebacks – and Cas would have enough, fix his face back to auto control and slip away. And Dean didn't want to complain, _couldn't _complain, because it's not like they were _boyfriends _or anything. Hell, at times they didn't even seem much like friends.

Dean didn't know what the hell he wanted. Normally, this kind of arrangement would have made him fucking thrilled, sex drive satiated and emotional strings unattached, but it always felt..._incomplete. _Story of his freaking life, he guessed.

* * *

"Cas?"

They were sprawled out onto the bed, both Dean and Cas on their back, fingers barely touching. Despite what they had just done, the mere act of their hands being close together seemed too intimate for them, and Cas seemed to realise it because he jerked away. Dean swallowed down any disappointment he felt, which wasn't much _really_, because he had never been the hand-holding kind of guy, not even with girlfriend's hands which were always too sticky and insistent and tight.

"Dean?" Cas turned his head a little. "What, you up for another round already, insatiable creature?"

Dean snorted. "You wish, you nymphomaniac."

"Enjoying sexual acts on a regular basis hardly makes me a nymphomaniac, Dean."

"Yeah, sure man," Dean said absent-mindedly, and then cleared his throat. "So, uh, you heading back to your place?"

Cas sat up a little, tilting his head down at Dean. Dean looked up to see Cas's inquisitive eyes, then looked away. "I mean, you should."

But because Cas could read Dean – nearly freaking always – Cas paused and offered, "Do you want me to stay, Dean?"

"No I mean – I guess if you want," Dean said finally. "No point making the trip back now."

"Yeah," Cas said, lying down again. "Okay. But, Dean? No cuddling."

"Never really took you for a spooning kind of guy, anyway," Dean said, dryly, turning to his side.

Cas turned to his side too, so that their eyes could meet. They weren't touching, but it almost felt like they were, and Dean had grown too fond of the way Cas would stare at him. It had stopped being intrusive, and instead felt reassuring.

"No," Cas agreed. "But I like this."

Dean made a noise of choked laughter. "Figured, what with the owlish staring kink, and all."

"Owlish?" Cas repeated, but Dean didn't answer.

He closed his eyes and he fell asleep like that, Cas's eyes probably still open, watching him sleep.

* * *

The awesome thing, Dean thought, about being unofficially involved with Cas was the fact that he didn't have to introduce him to his _numerous _amount of friends – practically all of them knew him – _and _Cas never felt the need to introduce him to any of _his _friends, (or friendly acquaintances as Cas called them), either. And Dean knew he would fucking mess up in the presence of any of Cas's 'friendly acquaintances' as soon as he opened his mouth and announced his degree – so it was a relief that Cas didn't want to involve Dean in that part of his life, _seriously_.

And although none of Cas's friendly acquaintances felt _any _need to meet Dean – Dean didn't even know if they knew about him and Cas – Dean's _friends_ sure were interested in hanging out with Dean and Cas.

So he had caved in, told Charlie and Gabriel and Garth and Cas to show up at the cafe – easy exit, if things went down the shitter – and had added to the three former that they better not do anything fucking embarrassing.

Later, Dean realised that was probably asking too much.

It started with Gabriel's smirk and "Looks like you downgraded, huh, Cassie?" and it went all downhill from there.

They were all huddled inside, cradling mugs of coffee or hot chocolate or ice chocolate for Gabriel – that weirdo – and Dean felt a little too _Sex and the City _for his comfort. His mouth twitched at the thought that if he told any of his friends, they'd probably proceed to allocate characters to themselves – not that Dean would know any of the characters, really. He'd only caught one, or two episodes when hunkered down at night with nothing to do.

Garth was a tad twitchy and kept nodding at everything that anyone said to make up for his lack of speaking up, until it seemed like he couldn't take it anymore and blurted, "So are you two dating?"

Dean refused to look at anyone, even though he _knew _Cas would have drifted his gaze over to him. Hell, he could even feel it, just like when they sometimes fell asleep with Cas watching him. Dean refused to process how creepy that actually sounded.

"Uh," Dean coughed intelligently, and tried to will Cas to take the fucking wheel and drive them both out of the ditch.

"Dean and I have not discussed any labels," Cas said smoothly. "We are just two people, who enjoy being around each other."

Gabriel snorted.

"That is _totally _fine, you guys," Charlie said, shooting an unamused look at Gabriel. "Like, you guys don't need to be saying you're dating or anything to be...whatever you are."

"This is just going to end in disaster," Gabriel muttered under his breath, and Dean felt the urge to grab his hair and slam his face on the table, or something equally violent.

Dean had to settle for a low growl of, "Yeah, let us worry about that, okay?" And an irritated look at Gabriel, which _really _didn't satisfy Dean's needs, but Gabriel seemed to shut up a little after that.

* * *

It wasn't that long before other people kind of realised that Dean and Cas were _together _in a way, even though it's not like they flaunted it or anything. Both Dean _and _Cas were not fond of any form of PDA, and as far as they were concerned, it's not like it was anyone else's business. They were just trying to be together, in the simplest way possible, but other people seemed to actually be _interested _in it. Fuck knows why, because Dean didn't think it was particularly interesting at all.

One day, Cas and Dean were sitting inside in one of the public lounges in Dean's dorm hall, and Dean could see a couple of girls out of the corner of his eye, conversing in low tones. At first, Dean regarded it as just some background noise, like annoying cicada's, but it wasn't until he decided to tune in that he realised they were talking about him and Cas. He rolled his eyes at that, turning back to his laptop (where Dean typed at a frustratingly slow pace, because he never really got the hang of it) and subtly directing his eyes to Cas's calm, steady typing. While Charlie typed with purpose, Cas typed methodically and like he could do it all day.

"Hey, Cas," Dean said. "You hear that?" He jerked his head towards the girls, and Cas turned his head, blinking steadily at them for a few moments before turning his head back to the computer.

"Yes," Cas replied. "They are talking about us."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Yeah, no shit, Sherlock. So, how do we tell them to shut the fuck up and mind their own goddamn business?"

Cas sighed. "We don't, Dean."

Dean snorted. "Screw that. We're not their goddamn scientific projects."

"They aren't causing us any harm, Dean," Cas said. "Would you like to be rational about this?"

Dean shot Cas an annoyed look. "Would you try and stop talking to me like you're looking down on me, Cas?"

Cas furrowed his brows and took his eyes away from the computer screen. "I'm not looking down on you, Dean."

"Well, it sure as hell always feels like it," Dean said, shaking his head. "Whatever, man. I'm tired and I just want to get this done."

Cas furrowed his brows even further. "No, I think we should talk about this, Dean. It's obviously something you find troubling."

He rolled his eyes. "I find too many goddamn things troubling, Cas, and I don't need to talk about all of them. Fuck, this isn't a talk show. You aren't Oprah."

"I never said –" Cas cut himself off, looking like he was trying to gather himself, like a fucking drama queen, like Dean was so _exasperating_. "I just want to talk."

"I don't want to talk," Dean said, rubbing his hands over his face. "I want this to be finished, and I want a cold beer, and then I want my bed."

Cas looked at him all disappointingly like, and Dean swallowed with dread. "You know, Dean, for someone who wants _me _to open up about my past, about my life, you really don't offer any of your own."

"I –" Dean wanted to say so many things, like _I don't say much about myself because I'm afraid you'll figure out you're too good for me, because you are _and _I don't deserve you _but Dean didn't say anything.

"I hope you enjoy your cold beer, Dean," Cas said, and just like that, Cas disappeared.

* * *

"So, Dean-O, what are you doing for Thanksgiving?" Gabriel said, popping a cherry into his mouth and leaning back on the chair. "You got any Castiel-shaped plans?"

Dean was feeling irritable, and Gabriel's personality didn't exactly help, but it's not like he could exactly turn him away after he too had ventured into the college's cafeteria, searching for some more warmth than the dorm rooms offered.

"No," Dean growled, spooning the pasta into his mouth. He mostly did this as an excuse not to talk, but Gabriel didn't exactly get the hint.

"Alright then, Mister Touchy," Gabriel said, reaching for more cherries.

"Fuck off," Dean mumbled around his pasta, and then Charlie came behind them, pulling Dean's pasta away from him.

"_Dean_," Charlie said, over his protests. "Come on. Your mystery meat pasta can wait. Cas is going off the deep end, or something."

"Cas?" Dean repeated, blinking in confusion. "_Deep _end?"

"Yes!" Charlie said, grabbing onto his arm. "You need to like, calm him down. Please."

"Uh," Dean said. "Yeah. Okay."

He let Charlie pull him out of the cafeteria, his brain catching up to the program quicker than he had anticipated – after all, when it came to Cas, all normal bets were off – and he and Charlie rushed to where Cas lived, where Charlie had quickly left them alone.

Cas's room was in shambles, which was really saying something. Castiel wasn't exactly the _neatest _person in the world, but he liked order, with books alphabetically placed on the shelf and pen just-so next to the phone. Dean found Cas throwing stuff in his bag, angrily, with no consideration for _maximising space _and all that jazz Dean knew Cas would be into.

"Cas!" Dean said, rushing over to where Cas was and grabbing onto his wrist. "Cas, what the fuck?"

Cas shrugged Dean's arm off, and when Dean tried to grip his arms tighter, he shot Dean a glare that made him back off. Cas was fucking scary when he was angry.

"What are you doing?" Dean said. "Cas, just stop for a minute!"

"_Dean_," Cas said, finally whirling around to meet his eyes, all dark blue with anger. "I can't _waste _that minute. I need to go. Now."

"Go _where_," Dean said, trying to keep any whine out of his voice. "Are you okay?"

"No, Dean," Cas said, stomping over to his wardrobe and pulling out about three sweaters. "I am _not_."

"What?" Dean said, scanning Cas from head to toe for any visible sign of _not_ that he could see. "What happened?"

Cas did stop then, and he looked at Dean for a short minute, wild and angry and then he was slamming his mouth onto Dean's, hot and needy and so fucking _insistent _that Dean had stiffened for a second in surprise. But this was _Cas _up against him, Cas with the deep voice and Cas with the endearingly adorable stare and so Dean reacted with ease, pulling Cas closer and running tongue against his, tasting him. He felt Cas's hands twine into his hair, and then Cas was _grinding _against him, and making Dean throw his head back so that he could have better access to Dean's neck. Dean's mind was whirring, nerves tingling with sensation, Cas's demands not allowing Dean to stop and think, and hell Dean didn't know if he _wanted _to stop and think, not with Cas's hand lowering to unzip Dean's fly and suddenly it was just _Cas, Cas, Cas_ playing non-stop in his mind, Cas stifling Dean's moans with his mouth.

After, with Dean spent, Cas had just _deflated_, pushing Dean away and sitting down onto the bed, staring blankly at the wall.

Dean thought Cas looked so _sad_, so _despondent, _so hopeless, and this was the first time Dean had seen _that _particular look on his face.

"Cas?" Dean finally said, rubbing the back of his neck after he had gone to clean up. "Uh. You okay, man? What was that?"

Cas sighed. "I'm just so frustrated, Dean."

"Oh."

"Michael found out about us."

"Oh?" Dean settled on, trying to leave room for Cas to say whatever he had to say.

"I...it'd be okay, you know, if it was just me. If it was just me I'm affecting, but. I have this...brother. Little brother. His name is Daniel. He was adopted, by my father, when he was trying to improve his public image. He's...not _normal_. He's got down syndrome, and he's deaf, which means he needs special care because he can't talk, even though he's nine, and he needs attention, love." Castiel paused for a second. "None of which any of my siblings could give him, except for me, I suppose. I loved my other siblings, in the way I knew I _should_, but then Daniel came into our family when he was three, and I was just barely a teenager, and I grew to love him, more than my other brothers. I tried to teach him sign language, which he knows a little of. But he was warm, and happy, and loved Disney Channel and that stupid show about a girl who managed to fool everyone she was two different people because of a wig." Castiel laughed harshly. "But it's not all smooth sailing either. It's difficult and it's frustrating, but I was the only one who _cared. _And now...Michael found out about me and you, he's...he's threatening to give Daniel away." Castiel looked at Dean then. "Like a fucking dog that can't be house trained."

Dean swallowed down his words, his anger, because he knew Cas hadn't finished yet.

"I need...I need to go back. And take Daniel. Or do something. He's _not _going to legally disown Daniel from the Novak family. Daniel _is _family. He says...he says that they can't _handle _Daniel, that he's getting out of control even with specialists and help. And then...and then he said I'm not a good role model for him either, what with being the way I am." He scoffed. "Daniel wouldn't give a fuck. He just...he just wants to go to the swimming pool. I bet Michael hasn't brought Daniel to the swimming pool since I was at home." Castiel felt like he was choking back a sob, and this was so out of Dean's area of comfort, _so _out of what Dean thought he could handle, but Dean couldn't just do _nothing_.

"Fuck," Cas said, passing a hand over his face. "I need to leave. Now. Thanksgiving break is only a few days away, and nothing of import is coming up."

"I'll go with you," Dean blurted out. Dean recoiled in surprise at his own words, before realising that, yeah, Dean really fucking wanted to. If there was anything that Dean understood, it was _family, _it was having a little brother who you cared so freaking much about you just wanted him to have the best, and no less, okay, because they _deserved it_.

"No, Dean," Cas said, shaking his head and standing up to continue packing, calmer now. "No. You being there would only aggravate the situation further, and I need to deal with Michael on my own."

"I want to _help_, Cas," Dean said.

"I know, Dean," Cas said, losing any fight in his voice. "You are selfless, and beautiful, and I know you do." But then he shot a look at Dean. "But it's not like we're even together, Dean. You're not my boyfriend."

This felt like a slap in Dean's face before he realised it was true – he _wasn't _Castiel's boyfriend, and he really had no claim to wanting to go back with him...he still had classes, and papers due, and things weren't empty for him like they were for Cas. But Dean _did _have a claim. Dean cared about Cas, and as an extension he cared about Daniel. Dean didn't care about a lot of people, but he _really _wanted Castiel to be happy. Preferably with Dean, but.

"But, Cas, I –"

"Please leave, Dean." Cas shook his head. "There's nothing you can do."

"There is _always _something," Dean said, almost into a growl now. "There is always something else. Let me help you."

"I don't need your help."

Dean looked down and smiled bitterly, shaking his head and looking away from Castiel. "Yeah, Cas. Sure."

* * *

A/N: Sorry this took so long. I had end-of-year exams, then I went overseas for a holiday straight after, so. Here you go though! Send me a comment if you liked. ;)

Oh, also, my younger brother has down syndrome and is deaf, so the character of Daniel will obviously be based on him. I don't know anyone else who has both down syndrome and can't hear, so if you do, you can drop me a line with any comments about that in future chapters. Thanks.


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